The Healer
by LadyofSong
Summary: Draco Malfoy struggles to heal the girl he loves, a dying muggle infected with cancer, after he abandons his Death Eater ways.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry potter or any of JK Rowlings Characters (But I think you knew that)**

**This is my first fanfiction! Thank you for reading! I hope you like it! Let me know in the comments!**

Little light filtered through the thick curtains into the dim office room. There, in an old wooden desk sat a tall man with a somber expression. He stared down at

his quickly cooling tea and let out a long sigh, letting his white blond hair fall over his eyes. He ignored the darkening sky outside and the slow trickle of doctors

and nurses filing down the hallways to the exit stairs. For a brief moment he considered going home for a night, back to his tiny apartment in the muggle

suburbs, but the thought fled as quickly as it had come. He wouldn't go home. How could he? In the next room his patient was counting down her days. Her

time was ticking quickly away. How could he possibly let her be alone for even a second? He lifted his head and rubbed his tired eyes, reaching for one of the

many piled bottles he kept tucked under the papers on his desk. Squinting to see the fine print, he identified the potion, and without a second thought, poured

the rest of the contents of the orange cap into his now completely cold peppermint tea.

He sat back and took a swig from his hand painted mug. Instantly he felt a chill, then a strange warmth spread though him, flowing through his magical blood

like fire, rejuvenating his sleepless body. He glanced at the analog clock on the white wall. He still had a half an hour before the next shift of doctors was due

to arrive at the hospital. With the exception of the muggle nurses, he was alone.

Slowly, he climbed out of his chair, pausing for a moment to pull on his white doctors coat. He stepped out into the hallway, counting his footsteps. It would

take seventeen more to get to her room. Sixteen. He could feel his heart begin to beat faster. She is my patient, he told himself. She probably has a husband

at home, praying for her to be safe and get well. He tried to believe what he told himself, he really did. But still there was the nagging voice in the back of his

head. Where is this husband, while his wife is here dying of the muggle cancer. And on that note, where was the rest of her family? He was there every day.

He cared for her. Why shouldn't he love her?

Ten steps.

No, He told himself. She is my patient. Her husband is probably just tied up with his muggle job. He would be here. Why wouldn't he?

Five Steps.

His heart was pounding like a drum. He started to question why he had taken this case to begin with. Why had he any interest in this new disease? He could

already cure any other malady with his magic alone. What had appealed to him about this one patient? She wasn't so special. Why did he love her so?

One step.

He knocked once before opening the door to the sickroom. The white sheets, tubes, and meters were all clean and made up, winding and lighting up and

coiling out of various places. in her nose were two oxygen supplying plastics and in her arm was the needle of an IV. The beeping of her heart rate normal and

peaceful. He watched her for a moment, observing her sleeping face. Her auburn hair tumbled around her shoulders beautifully even tangled though it was. Her

soft cheeks were flushed with color that he rarely saw when she was awake. She seemed, happy. Pain free. A sight he rarely saw. Slowly he backed out of the

room, closing the door softly behind him. He didn't want to wake her from her blissful dreams.

For a few minutes he aimlessly wandered the hallways of the fluorescently lit hospital, ducking out of sight whenever a nurse walked passed. Eventually he

tired and began making his way back to his saw a sign for the lou and turned, following it into one of the crystal clean bathrooms. The white tiles were

layered on the disinfected floor, and the walls were painted a pale, calming shade of blue. He walked to the sink and leaned over, laying his head on the cool

plaster. When he lifted it up, tears were welling in his eyes. His mop of blond was spilling over his face again, but this time he did not pull it away. Drops slid

from his eyes, but he did not dry them.

"Why?! Why!?" He yelled to himself, knees shaking. "She is beautiful! She is wonderful! She doesn't need to die! Not yet! Please god!" Tears were now pouring

from his eyes, wetting the pristine white sink. He stayed this way for at least ten minutes, sobbing over the muggle girl he could not cure. When he finally could

not cry any more tears, he stood up.

Wiping his hair from his forehead and the wet stains from his cheeks, he addressed himself in the mirror.

"I am Draco Malfoy. I survived the Battle of Hogwarts and now I save muggle lives. I can save her. I _will_ save her."


	2. Chapter 2

**Finally uploaded chapter two! Sorry I took so long! In this chapter a little more of his anger and "deatheaterness" shows and he is less weepy! I hope you like it! Don't forget to review! **

He spent the rest of his half hour break in his office, swirling his spoon around in his empty mug. He made no attempt to adjust the thermostat, leaving the

temperature to drop further and further until it was nearly as chilled as the frosty air outside. Though the windows were shut and the shades drawn, a draft

still crept through, adding to the biting cold. He watched the clock incessantly, waiting for his team of doctors to arrive. They were already five minutes late.

He thought of his team, of their cold stares and their crisp attitudes. He chose them because they reminded him of his family. He liked their emotionlessness.

They were the best England had to offer, they had no need to be sensitive where it was not necessary. It was best to be strict and unfriendly. Loneliness

protects people from being hurt. He let out a long sigh and continued to watch the clock.

It was already quarter to six when the first of his colleagues arrived, her pale skin flushed with cold. She gave him a brief nod and walked away to the meeting

room, another chilled room covered in whiteboards. They were one of the few things in the hospital that were not clean. Ideas and diagnoses were scrawled

across them in a messy script, listing hundreds of possible cures for the various cases. There was only one board in the room that was empty. A board Draco

wished more than anything to write on. It was the only board that mattered.

The rest of the doctors arrived within ten minutes of the first, all dressed thickly to avoid the worsening weather. They changed hurriedly and then sat at the

round table in the 'thinking room'. Two of them left to take the patients condition and record it, but there was little to report. Her condition was declining at a

steady rate.

"Well?" Draco asked expectantly of the group. There was no answer. Their faces were blank. Draco tightened his fist in his pocket, clenching and unclenching

his fingers in aggravation. Finally the blond haired girl who had been the first to arrive, sensing his anger, stood.

"I'm sorry, but we have tried all the medication we can. She is dying." She said in a defeated voice.

"Are you saying we should give up?" He replied, running his hands through his slick hair, and beginning to pace around the room. "You think we should stop

trying? Stop trying to save an innocent life?"

"Sir, there is nothing we can do. Nothing is powerful enough for her condition. She is in pain. The best we can do is lessen that while we still can." The women

said again in a timid voice, beginning to fear her strong willed manager. Her words made him angry.

"There is never nothing! Do you hear me! Never!" He lunged at her, feeling the blood pounding through him. No one could stop him. He was powerful, he could

do anything. What did a muggle know anyway? How could she, her mind was feeble! She couldn't know! "I will never give up! She is precious!" He screamed,

pushing away from the table and resuming his pacing, faster now.

"I don't care what you think! You are wrong!" He slumped down in a chair and put his head in his hands. He could hear them whispering, but he didn't care.

"Leave. Just go. Now." He told them.

One by one they glanced at him and filed out of the room, grabbing their bags and leaving at a run as soon as they thought he couldn't see them.

When he thought they were all gone he picked his head up. He was surprised to see the blond woman again, standing in the corner watching him. She opened

her mouth to talk, but he silenced her with a nonverbal spell. She held her throat for a moment, watching him, and fear flicked across her slim face. She gasped

and sputtered, but then settled into silence. He eyes never left his. The clock ticked slowly by, an eerie backdrop to the dark scene. 'I could kill her right now'

Draco thought maliciously, eyeing her exposed neck. But then the fear in her eyes changed to despair as she watched his motions. Her quiet sadness was

enough to change his mind. The livid expression left his face and he undid the spell on her. As soon as she was released she turned and ran from the room,

stopping briefly to scribble a few words on a notepad on the table, then rushing out the door and into the night.

Draco sat for a few minutes more with his head in his hands, trying to calm his rage. Defeat never came easily to him. But he knew his doctors were right. There

was nothing else to do for her. She was living in pain, and even he with all his magic was powerless to help her. Eventually he got up from the wooden chair

and walked back through the archway to his office, roughly grabbing the note as he walked passed it.

He went to stand next to the window and drew back one of the thick drapes, watching the street below. A light snow had begun to fall and was coating the lit

shop windows with a glittering layer of white. He glanced down at the note. He didn't need to read it. He already knew what it said. The doctors had decided

without him. The treatment was costly and it wasn't helping her. All of their options were exhausted. He crumpled the note and threw it into the metal bin. She

was going to die.


End file.
